I give a short laugh. “The girl I’m trying to win over.”
That earns me a smile. “Well, what does she like?”
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out. Fuck. What does she like? I scan the shop like the answer might be hanging from the ceiling. She’s never been one for cliché, that much I know. I rack my brain, flipping through memories like a man trying to pick a lock in the dark. There’s a blank space where knowledge should be—until the florist starts listing options.
Roses. Lilies. Peonies. Tulips.
And then it hits me.
The field.
That late afternoon when she dragged me out to the edge of town, where the sky turned honey and orange, and the wind kicked up her hair while she ran between those rows like she hadn’t been broken before.Tulips. That was the first time I saw her laugh like no one was watching.
“Tulips. The brightest ones you’ve got.”
“Good choice,” she says, pulling a bunch of yellow ones before wrapping them in soft brown paper.Bright.Because that’s what she is. The brightest fucking light that’s ever touched my life, and somehow, I still managed to screw it up.
I hold onto that thought while we duck into the café. Familiar smells hit me—coffee, burnt sugar, something fried and tempting—but it’s the comfort of it that sticks. I order a long black, and get Teddy his usual.
“Can I have the dinosaur cookie?” Teddy asks, bouncing on his heels.
“Dinosaur cookie?”
He looks up, all serious. “Yeah. That’s what Olivia used to get me.”
My chest does something silly. I swear I’ve been walking around with cracks in my ribs and hadn’t noticed until now. I clear my throat and nod. “Then we’ll get the cookie.”
Soon enough, Teddy’s got froth on his lip and a cookie in one hand, gripping it like treasure. The little menace looks so damn proud. I crouch down, pull out my phone, and snap a photo before I can overthink it. He grins wide, crumbs all over his chin, milk moustache and all.
It’s too fucking cute. I stare at the picture longer than I should, thumb hovering over the screen. Every instinct saysdon’t. Don’t reach out just yet, but I already know it’s too late for that.
There is one thing missing from this photo. Any guesses?
It feels stupidly small, but it’s something. I hit send before I can talk myself out of it.
Twenty minutes later, I’m standing in front of the mirror like a teenager on formal night, fighting with the buttons on a blue shirt that already feels wrong. I’ve gone through three already, and none of them scream “please don’t reject me in front of our kid”. Teddy wanders in, arms crossed, head tilted.
“I don’t like that one.”
I frown at him in the mirror. “You don’t even know what we’re doing.”
He shrugs. “Still don’t like the colour.”
I sigh, and swap it out for a grey quarter-zip shirt. Clean, simple. I grab a pair of denim shorts not daring to ask him because, at this point, I’ve got nothing left in the tank.
Teddy nods once. “Better.”
Approval granted by the fashion authority of Wattle Creek Primary.
We rock up to Olivia’s place just before sunset. The nerves hit differently now. Less fight or flight, more… hope wrapped in barbed wire.
Grace opens the door, one brow cocked. “Well, well. Look who’s back.”
“Evening, Grace.” I clear my throat. “Is Olivia home?”
She calls her down without hesitation, and the sound of footsteps hits before she does. And then she’s there—barefoot, hair loose, still the most beautiful kind of chaos I’ve ever seen. Her oversized shirt hangs off one shoulder. That signature pink flush which coats her cheeks. The way her eyes widen just slightly when she sees me. There’s a tight pull deep in my chest, just under the sternum. I rub at it without thinking.Is that normal?Because it aches. God, it aches just to look at her.
“Olivia!” Teddy barrels past me, arms out.
